


Blindspot

by sleepdeprivedphilosopher



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, Post-Canon, author relates too much to content, depressed boyfriends yay, hey look at that baz actually can be okay at feelings, the softest baz, there's hope for us all, they really do match, they're so in love it kills me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-10 23:51:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20144065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepdeprivedphilosopher/pseuds/sleepdeprivedphilosopher
Summary: "But I've always been like this," I say.Baz looks a little heartbroken. "I know," he says softly.Simon hasn't texted Baz in a few days. Baz is honest for once and Simon has some realizations.The pain you endure doesn't have to define you.





	Blindspot

**Author's Note:**

> hey void, 
> 
> so I was planning on working on an update for Essential or Bitter Rivals, but I've been having a bit of a rough time of it lately and this happened instead? 
> 
> um I'm not sure what this is, to be honest. it is funny? fluffy? angsty? 
> 
> relatable? 
> 
> maybe? 
> 
> anyway it helped me sorta so maybe it'll resonate with someone else too. 
> 
> here's hoping
> 
> enjoy?

**Simon**

"Snow, you're depressed." This is the first thing Baz greets me with once he walks through my front door (well our front door, but Pen isn't here right now). 

I look up at him from my spot on the couch. I'm hunched over my laptop, and I've barely moved from this position in the past three days. "What makes you say that?" I ask him. 

He walks over and sits down next to me. I immediately lean over into his personal space only to have him lean away from me. I pout at him. "What?" 

Baz wrinkles his nose at me. "You smell," he informs me. "When was the last time you took a shower?" 

"Ummm," I say then shrug because I honestly can't remember. 

Baz nods like I answered his question. "Go shower," he says and gives me a little nudge. 

I look back at my laptop where the YouTube homepage is staring at me. A YouTuber I've recently subscribed to has just uploaded a new video. It's a Minecraft walkthrough. Three days ago I didn't even know what Minecraft was and now I can't stop watching fucking walkthroughs. 

Baz notices my wavering attention and closes the laptop for me. "Shower." His tone makes it clear that it isn't a suggestion. 

Still. "You haven't even told me why you think I'm depressed yet," I argue. Or kissed me hello. 

"I don't think," Baz disagrees. "I know, and I'll tell you once you've rinsed off." 

"Fine," I say knowing it is pointless to argue when he gets like this. 

He gives me another nudge, and I sigh and rise to my feet. I immediately feel woozy. Baz looks concerned. "Have you eaten at all recently?" he asks. 

"Yeah," I say and gesture towards the empty bags of crisps around me. 

Baz frowns and I resist the urge to rub the furrow between his eyebrows (he hates when I do that, but I can't help myself sometimes. I don't like when Baz frowns anymore). "This is worse than I thought. Go shower I'm going to order some takeaway." 

"Curry?" I suggest, hopefully. 

"Sure," Baz says. "Whatever you want, just shower, please." 

The promise of curry is enough to get me to the bathroom finally. I'm not sure what Baz is on about I feel fine. I'm not sad or anything (though I'll admit that he did have a point about showering). 

Once I reenter the living room, I find Baz still on the couch messing with his phone. I do notice that the area around him is much clearer than when I left it. All the crisps bags have been taken care of and the empty Red Bull cans too. My socks have apparently vanished (probably into the laundry basket in my room), and the table looks recently spelled. Honestly, I hadn't noticed the trainwreck my living room had become before now. I'm vaguely embarrassed about it (Baz has lived with me he knows how messy I am, but something about this feels differently). 

"Hey," I say, and he glances up from his phone. "You cleaned." I'm not sure why I say that. Obviously, he's cleaned. It's a stupid thing to say. 

"Well spotted," Baz drawls and pats the space beside him. 

I immediately take him up on his offer and sit next to him (this time, he lets me into his personal space). I wrap my arms around his waist and nuzzle my face into his neck. He lets out a contented sigh and throws an arm around my shoulder (Baz likes to pretend that he hates physical affection, but I know better. He's like a cat.). He starts to twist my curls around his fingers, and I feel myself relax. 

The familiar scent of his shampoo washes over me, and I kiss his cheek, humming in satisfaction. I didn't notice how tense I was, but now that he's in my arms I realize how uncomfortable I've been all day. "Mmm," I mumble. "I've missed you." 

"You saw me four days ago, Snow," Baz points out, but there's warmth in his voice. 

"Too long," I say. 

"You could have come with me," Baz says, again. 

I frown. I don't want to rehash this discussion. Just because his family is aware we're together and have seemingly forgiven me for stealing their magic doesn't mean that I've forgiven myself. I just rather not face them right now even if it would get me a free trip to Ireland. 

Baz seems to sense my discomfort on the topic and changes the subject. "The curry will be here soon," he tells me. "App says twenty minutes." 

My lips turn upward, and I lean further into him. "What could we possibly do for twenty minutes?" I murmur against his neck and reach over to unbutton the top of his shirt. 

I feel Baz shudder against me, but he does the opposite of what I expect and pulls my hand anyway. "Not now Snow." 

"But I've missed you," I say and press an open-mouth kiss against his throat. 

Baz lets out a small choked sound (it's one of my favorites) before he pushes a sigh into my hair. "I've missed you too," he admits. "But I need to talk to you." 

"So talk," I say my lips still pressed against him. 

"I'd like to be able to look at you while having this conversation," Baz says. A little bit of dread prickles in my stomach (does he want to break up? Is he unhappy? Surely not.) 

Baz picks up on my tension and kisses my forehead. "Not about that, love," he reassures. "We're fine. I'm just worried about you." 

I pull away so I can meet his eyes. "Right," I say. "You think I'm depressed." 

"I know you're depressed," Baz corrects. 

I reluctantly remove my arms to cross them at him. "How do you know?" 

Baz reaches over and grabs his phone though I note happily he still keeps an arm around me (just because he is being annoying doesn't mean I want him to let go). He waves the phone in front of me. "You haven't texted me in three days." 

"So?" I say. "You've done that to me before. Loads of times remember last semester when you didn't message me back for like a week during finals? If you're angry about it you're a hypocrite." 

"I'm not angry," Baz says. "Do I sound angry? I told you before that I'm worried." 

I'm not sure what he's getting at. "Why?" 

"You've never done that before," Baz says. "Snow, you are constantly texting me." 

"Not constantly," I protest. I do have a life outside of my boyfriend. 

"I usually get a play by play of your day," Baz continues. "You've never gone longer than a few hours without messaging me. Whether it is a dumb question you have or a dog you've just seen or a ranking of the best scones in London." He's smiling at me, and I melt a little (even now he rarely smiles. He's still prone to smirking). "I'm never unaware of what you're currently thinking. It's adorable." 

I'm blushing now. I didn't know he thought it was cute. I always figured he found it annoying. He's told me to stop blowing up his phone multiple times. 

He's still smiling when he kisses me. I try to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away again. Seriously? I haven't seen him in four days. Can't we debate about my mental health later? Or preferably never? 

"So this radio silence I've been getting for the past three days? A bit concerning I had to text Bunce to find out if you were still alive," Baz says. 

Great now I feel bad. "I didn't mean to make you worry," I say. "I just got a bit distracted." 

Baz tucks a curl behind my ear. "I know, but that doesn't mean that I'm not." 

"Babe," I say. "I promise I'm fine. Really." 

Baz raises an eyebrow (he is really not doing much to further his let's not makeout cause). "The scene I just walked into begs to differ, love." (Seriously not furthering his cause). 

"I just lost track of time," I argue. 

Baz shakes his head, and his face is as gentle as I've ever seen it. It is such a foreign expression on his features that I'm torn between asking what he's done with my boyfriend or snogging him senseless. 

I suppose I could do both, but he talks before I get the chance. "I think you're checking out Simon." 

I tilt my head. "Checking out?" 

Baz nods. "Checking out, zoning out, isolating, whatever you want to call it, it's still a symptom of depression." 

"But I've always been like this," I say. 

Baz looks a little heartbroken. "I know," he says softly.

"Baz," I say. "Are you saying that I've always been depressed?" 

Baz looks hesitant, but nods. "Takes one to know one." 

It takes a moment to sink in, but when it does, it's like a punch to the gut. "Baz are you saying you're depressed?" 

"Yes," he says his face clear of any emotion. He's hiding behind his mask again. "But we're not talking about me right now." 

"Maybe we should be," I mutter still dwelling on that confession. Was Baz depressed in school? Have I ever known a Baz that wasn't depressed? The thought alone is turning my stomach. 

Baz sighs. "Look," he says. "I know you're depressed because you're acting the same way that I do." 

"Baz, you're the cleanest person I know," I argue. "You're basically a neat freak." The idea of Baz being messy is laughable. 

"I am," Baz says. "On a good day." 

"Your side of the room was always clean," I say. 

"Not always," Baz says. 

I think back to our old room at Watford. The clear distinction between my side and Baz's. Mine with clothes thrown everywhere and books scattered. Bed messy and never made. Baz's with his organized drawers and neatly lined up notebooks. His bed always made with bloody hospital corners. 

"Nope," I say. "Definitely always." 

Baz looks away for a moment before looking back at me. "What you saw Snow was an illusion." 

I frown at him. "What?" 

"I used a spell," Baz says. "To hide the mess. To always project my side of the room when it was clean and perfect." 

My mouth is hanging open a little. "What?"

There is something so tired in Baz's eyes when he looks at me. "Why do you think I never wanted you on my side of the room?" 

My mind is reeling. "I just thought you were a private person," I say. "You are a private person." 

"Yes," Baz agrees. "I am, but that wasn't the reason." 

I think of a younger Baz now. Sitting alone in our room casting a spell so that I'd never notice his faults. Making sure to keep me in the dark to his struggles. It's making my chest hurt. "Babe," I whisper. 

"Don't," Baz says. "It's okay." 

"But you were--and I didn't," I start. 

"I'd never have let you," Baz says voice firm. 

I'm staring into his grey eyes. I thought that I knew them by now, but there is a pain there that I've never seen — a tired sort of pain. The burden you learn to live with, to carry. Something in me recognizes it because I've seen it in my own. 

"We really messed up, didn't we?" I say. 

"Yeah," Baz says, giving me a watery smile. "But we figured it out eventually." 

I can't help myself. I kiss him. He lets me; actually, he goes farther than lets me he meets my passion with an equal fire of his own. 

We're wrapped up firmly in each other now. Lips moving frantically, hands gripping hard like we're both afraid that the other will slip away. 

_I almost never had this. I almost never knew._

"I love you," I say against his mouth, holding him tightly. "I love you so much." 

"I love you too," he echos against mine. "I always have." 

I'm not sure how long we stay like that. Pulling comfort or love or understanding from our kissing, but eventually, a knock at the door startles us apart. 

"That would be the curry," Baz says panting a bit. 

"Yeah," I say out of breath. It's been a while since we've kissed like that. 

Another knock. "Coming," Baz calls and his voice is even now. I'm dead jealous of how quickly he's able to pull his composure back (maybe vampires don't need as much oxygen). 

To convey this, I lean down and kiss him again. He turns his head, so I get his cheek. "Snow let me up." 

"But you're so comfortable," I say stretching out and giving him a little more of my weight. 

Baz huffs at me. "Don't you want curry Snow?" 

I think for a moment. "Yeah, I guess." 

"Then you are going to have to get off me," Baz says in a reasonable tone. 

"Hmm," I say, smirking at him. 

Baz's eyes narrow playfully, and his muscles tense beneath me. "Don't make me make you Simon." 

That sends a blot of heat down my spine, and I groan a little. "Now I really don't want to move," I mumble, but I get up anyway. I do want curry. 

Baz gets off the couch and goes to answer the door. After a moment he returns carrying packages of takeout which he sets down in front of me. 

As soon as he sits down next to me, I'm reaching for him. Baz rolls his eyes and hands me a box. "Eat your curry," he orders. 

I pout at him. 

"Later," he promises then digs into his takeout. 

This appeases me, and I do as he says (as does the fact that he's allowing me to stare at his fangs. That still hasn't gotten old yet). 

  


Later (much later) we're in my bed, and I'm holding him in my arms running my fingers through his hair. 

"Simon," he whispers. 

"Hm?" I say. 

"I-I," he starts pauses then starts again. "Do you believe me?" 

"About?" I ask though I already know. 

He's quiet. 

I sigh. "Yes," I answer. "I do. I just…" I trail off. 

"Just?" 

"I don't know what to do about it," I say. "I've never noticed it before. I thought that--the things I've been experiencing-- the not thinking, zoning out instead of dealing, the lack of energy to take care of things, and all of that crap was normal." I pause. "I know that I've experienced trauma, but I thought that…" 

"That it was a recent thing?" Baz guesses. 

"Yeah," I say. "That." 

"It's not uncommon," Baz says. 

"What's not uncommon?" 

"The not being able to tell," Baz clarifies. "When you grow up with depression, you don't notice the signs because to you they seem normal." 

"How did you figure it out?" I ask him. He doesn't see a therapist like I do, though now I am even more convinced that he should. 

I feel Baz shrug. "Context clues mostly," he answers. "I read to escape Snow. That's how I zone out. There were a couple of books I read that had depressed characters. Eventually, I figured out why I felt like they got me. It was because they were me in a way." He's stroking his fingers down my back, and I can't tell if it is for his sake or mine. "I did some digging after, and well I've never been diagnosed professionally, but all of the signs are there once I bothered to look at them." He sounds so small. I've never heard him this small before. I wish I could see his face, but I also don't want to let him go. I hold him tighter. 

"What signs?" I ask, and I'm scared of his answer. 

"Hopelessness," Baz starts. "Isolation, general feelings of apathy for most of the world, guilt, anxiety, difficulty eating, and sleeping normally." He sighs. "Self-destructive behavior." 

I think about that. I think about Baz going through that. I think about me going through that. "I should talk to Susan about this." 

"Yes, I think you should," he agrees. 

"Will," I begin, and he tenses, but he doesn't tell me to stop though he is smart enough to know what I'm going to ask. "Will you think about talking to her too? Or someone like her?" 

Baz is quiet for so long that I'm not sure he is going to answer me. Finally he sighs. "Yes," he says. "I'll consider it." 

That's a start at least, and I am going to keep pestering him about it until he agrees. I can be very persistent when I want to be. 

  


I'm just about to nod off when something occurs to me. The realization is a lump in my throat. 

"Baz?" 

"Yes?" He sounds sleepy. 

"If I've always been depressed in some way or another since--since I was a kid then," my voice breaks a little, "what am I without it? Who am I really?" 

Baz pushes himself up so he can look at me. There is enough light from the nightlight to see his eyes. I see the pain in them, but I also see understanding. 

_We match._

"You're Simon Snow, the man who saved the world of mages," he says. "You're good and kind and brave as all hell." He cups my cheek. "You're the boy I've been in love with since I was twelve. Depression doesn't change that. Depression can't change that." 

I swallow hard. 

"I understand that it's scary," Baz continues. "I know it is because I've been there too. I know what it is like to consider yourself a stranger." He kisses my forehead. "But you're going to get through this. It's who you are." 

I let his words reassure me. I feel them settle in my heart. 

"We're going to get through this," I say, staring him down. "I'm taking you with me." 

Baz smiles like a sunrise. 

And if I fall a little more in love with him at the sight? 

Well, that's nothing new, and I'm done being blind. 

**Author's Note:**

> this post was actually completed at a reasonable time 10:15 PM! wow, does this mean that I'm going to be better at regulating my sleep schedule? 
> 
> probably not.
> 
> -still sleep deprived.


End file.
